Therapy
by lilrenthefox
Summary: Raylan is injured, unable to care for himself without help Art refers a friend to help him recover.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Pain ripped through his chest and legs as he fell. When the gunfire stopped he looked up at Doyle, the man was mouthing words that Raylan couldn't hear. He tried to catch his breath and found his chest screaming as he struggled with it. Doyle pointed the gun at him again and kept talking, "He's gonna kill me," Raylan realized, heart pounding so hard he thought it would explode. He took a shaky breath and let his hand fall, "So this is how it ends."

He'd resigned himself to the fact that this was his last few moments on earth. He'd just started mouthing a silent prayer when a bullet tore through Doyle's skull, showering the rednecks behind him in blood and gore. Raylan stared blankly, confused, "What the hell just happened?" he wondered. The ringing in his ears had quieted, he let his head fall. A hand caught the back of his neck. He jumped, his muscles flexed and he bit back a scream, "If I'm gonna die, at least I'll have some dignity about it." The hand had a body attached, he leaned back and saw that Tim was cradling his head.

"Raylan?" wrinkle lines showed around his furrowed brows.

"T-Tim?" Raylan choked on the words from the pain.

"You okay?" Tim had slung his rifle over his shoulder. He started checking Raylan over.

Raylan knew when Tim saw the blood, the look on his partner's face scared him. Tim bit his lip, "T-Tim," he felt stupid for only being able to spit out his name but his chest burned too badly.

"Art!" Tim turned and yelled, "Get a bus, he's been hit!" He pulled Raylan gently into him, "You're gonna be okay."

Raylan knew Tim was more trying to convince himself of this as the other agents ran past them to get into the house, "L'retta," Raylan stuttered, trying to tell Tim she had a gun and was in the house with Mags.

"Shhh," Tim shushed him, "let them handle things."

Raylan was too exhausted to argue, he grit his teeth as a wave of nausea followed the pain. He looked up at Tim and the world around him started spinning and fading, "I'm gonna pass out," he swallowed hard, "Fuck."

* * *

Raylan's eyes opened slowly. Dizzy and drunk he picked his head up and immediately lay back down, he looked around and realized he was in a recovery room, "Mr. Givens?" a man was standing at the side of his bed. Raylan nodded and slurred something, "You're very lucky, Mr. Givens," the man was saying.

"No I'm not," Raylan thought and winced as he stretched his neck a bit, "I got shot. If I'd have been lucky I'd have killed that sonuva-"

"Mr. Givens?" Raylan blinked and realized the man had asked him a question, "Would you like to go to a room now? Your vitals are stable enough," the man repeated.

"Mmmhmmm," he nodded. He closed his eyes as the man unlocked the wheels of his bed, barely aware of where he was going. Voices around him, talking excitedly about something he couldn't understand, "These drugs must be really good," the thought did little to comfort him.

"Raylan?" someone was talking to him, he knew the voice. "Raylan?" it repeated and he opened his eyes.

"Tim," he mouthed the name.

* * *

Tim, Art, and Rachel paced the room as they waited for Raylan to be brought in from recovery. The nurse had come by and had them sign off on paperwork and now it was a hurry up and wait situation as Art liked to say. The door opened and Tim saw the foot of a hospital bed, tension spread through the three as they waited to see how bad this was. Rachel put her hand over her mouth, Raylan looked awful. The staff hadn't bothered with a hospital gown, his chest was covered in gauze and dressings and they'd probably felt it redundant to add another layer. One of his legs looked larger than the other one beneath the blanket, "He got shot twice?" Art ran a hand down his face.

Tim went to him while Art looked over the paperwork and spoke with the doctors, "Raylan, can you hear me?" his partner barely stirred, "Raylan?" he said again. Relief washed over him as Raylan opened his eyes and mouthed his name, "Hey y'asshole, we were worried about you." Raylan smiled a drunken half smile and Tim saw small red marks where tape had held an intubation tube in place during surgery.

Tim caught the last of Art's conversation with the doctor, "...we'll wait until tomorrow, but we're sending therapy in to get him moving that leg."

"Already?" Tim turned and looked back at them.

"If it stiffens up it'll only be worse on him," the doctor said, "he's been assigned one of our specialists, Doctor Michelle Fox will be here to do an assessment when she gets some time. I've told her to clear her schedule," the doctor looked down at the half-conscious Raylan, "I don't think this will be fun for either of them."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Raylan?"

"No," Raylan thought, "go away and let me sleep."

"Raylan?" Rachel was calling his name.

"Nnnoooo," he groaned.

"Raylan."

Dammit if she wasn't persistent, "Hurtssssh," he managed.

"I know it hurts, but there's a therapist here to..." her voice trailed off. Rachel was about to give up, "I don't think you're gonna wake him up," she told the therapist flatly. Not adding that she really didn't want to see Raylan in pain, and the sedatives and Morphine didn't seem to keep him comfortable unless he was asleep.

Raylan could hear the conversation going on around his bed, but didn't want to respond and hoped they'd go away and let him sleep. "It's all right," the woman was looking over his chart, "I got used to this dealing with trauma patients."

"Yeah, well this one's stubborn as they come," Tim added protectively, Raylan stifled a smile.

"He really doesn't have to wake up for this," Michelle Fox smiled at them. Her curly brown hair fell down her shoulders pinned back by a small wooden clip with a horseshoe engraved in it. Rachel was sure Tim was enjoying the view of this therapist, but knew their main concern was Raylan.

"What exactly do you need to do?" Rachel asked.

"I'm doing an eval, checking for nerve damage and range of motion," she answered, moving toward the bed.

"I wouldn't get too close, he's trained and might smack you one if you startle him," Rachel continued.

"He's got a helluva mean right," Tim snorted and rubbed his jaw remembering the time he'd sneaked up on Raylan at his house.

"I know you're just worried about him," Michelle washed her hands. "I made sure the nurses had given him his medication before I came to look at him."

"I'm sorry," Rachel sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"I don't take it personal anymore," she put a hand on Rachel's shoulder. "I can't imagine how this must feel. If you'd like to grab something from the cafeteria that would be fine, you have my word I won't hurt him."

"I'll stay," Tim stood up and stretched, "go get somethin' to eat."

"You sure?" she asked Tim.

"Yeah, Rach, I'm good."

"I'm gonna go home and shower, then I'm sure Art will want me to go to the office," she rubbed the back of her neck.

"Go home and take a nap, we have a job to do," Tim reminded her.

"You're right," Rachel grabbed her jacket and purse. "I'll come back as soon as I can," she leaned over Raylan and touched her cheek to his forehead, he mumbled something incoherent and smiled.

"I'm a little better equipped to handle this kinda shit," Tim covered his mouth with his hand, "Sorry, I mean stuff."

"Not like I haven't heard that before, Deputy," Michelle approached Raylan. "Mr. Givens?" she called softly, "You don't really need to wake up, but I don't wanna scare you. I need to take a look at your leg, so I'm gonna touch you." She put her knee on the side of the bed and pressed some weight into the mattress, "If this hurts I need you to respond though." Raylan huffed a breath from his nose and turned his head to nestle into the pillow. Michelle pulled the blanket and sheet away from his leg and draped it modestly to keep as much of him covered as possible. She pulled the fuzzy blue hospital sock off of his foot and ran her hands over it, "I'm tryin' to see if you can feel this," she ran a finger from his heel to the ball of his foot. He flexed out of reflex, drawing a groan from his lips. "I know, sweetheart, not the most pleasant thing in the world, but we need to be sure the blood's flowing." She poked several places before she picked his foot up off the bed, putting a hand beneath the bend of his knee she put his heel on the mattress. Raylan growled and shifted, eyes opening as he tried to sit up, "Easy there, Mr. Givens," she spoke softly.

"Hurtsssh," he felt his eyes burn as he opened them, vision blurry.

"I know, just try and breathe while I make it better," she ran her hands along his calf and to his knee, he ground his teeth. "Relax," she told him, "it'll hurt a lot less if you're not fightin' me."

"Ray, you gotta let her move it," Tim held up the Morphine remote, "say the word and I press this."

"You might wanna save that for when I get to his chest," Michelle suggested, she rotated his ankle and flexed his toes.

"Sttop," Raylan pulled back.

"We can come back to range of motion," she lay his leg gently on the sheets. Michelle opened a packet and squirted some lotion on her hands, "This is Sombra," she started rubbing his foot, "it should feel good." Raylan resisted at first, his body bracing for pain. She worked in gentle circles around the ball of his foot all the way up to his ankle, he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and Tim saw him relax. "Not everything I do hurts," she explained. "This is to promote good blood flow to the area, and it's supposed to feel good. How're you doin' now?"

"Better," he rubbed his eyes but kept them closed.

Michelle worked on his foot, then his calf and up to his thigh where the bullet had ripped into him. "Almost finished here," she looked up at Tim, "You okay, Deputy?"

"Call me Tim, and yes, I'm fine."

"Press that button before I get to his chest," she nodded to the Morphine pump. "I won't sugarcoat it, Mr. Givens, when I move your shoulder around it's gonna hurt."

Raylan blinked as she covered his leg and got closer to his head, she reminded him of Ava in a way. Soft brown eyes, curly hair that was wild but neat, her scrubs left a little to the imagination but her makeup was tasteful and her smile was warm. "R-raylan," he didn't want to try and clear his throat.

"It's all right if I call you Raylan?" she asked, "Shake your head or nod, sweetheart." The accent, she wasn't from Kentucky but it was similar and Raylan couldn't place it. He nodded, and she smiled again, "Nice to meet you, Raylan. I'm Michelle Fox."

Tim sat on the couch and let Michelle work, she was thorough and had a gentle demeanor. She pulled the blanket and gown away from Raylan's chest and ran her fingers over his ribs gently, moving from one side to the other, then along his collarbone and finally his shoulder. Raylan winced as she got close to the dressing below his ribs, "I'm just gonna take a quick peek, no touchin', sweetheart." He licked his lips and nodded again, she peeled the tape back and inspected the wound, "Not as bad as I thought it'd be." She flexed his fingers one at a time on his right hand, "We've got a lot of work to do, Raylan. I've been assigned to your case if you think I'll be a good fit."

"If he was coherent he'd be hitting on you," Tim thought, grinning.

"What do you think?" Raylan's voice was barely above a whisper, "Can you help me?"

"I have a very high success rate," she started.

"Will I be able to hold a gun again?" he wished he could clear his throat, hating how weak and scratchy his voice was.

"If you follow my plan of care, I hope to have you at a range when you get cleared by this doctor," she massaged his hand.

"Then yes," Raylan let his hand fall into hers and the corner of his mouth turned up into that little half smile that Tim was familiar with.

"I've had my other cases cleared, I want to see how much improvement we can make and I'll be doing in-home therapy with your permission," she flexed his fingers again.

"In-home?" Raylan asked.

"Why yes, Raylan. You're goin' home soon."

"Granted, Dr. Fox," Raylan replied.

Tim looked at her questioningly, "He's going home?"

"Yes, I feel that he can heal and make the most improvements at home where he's most comfortable," she said.


End file.
